


You're The Only Light

by orphan_account



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, M/M, Near Death Experience, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was danger. He was safe. This is what happens with the villain loses in some respects and wins in others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're The Only Light

**Author's Note:**

> Two notes: This has many elements that are rather stereotypical for a vampire story, I'm not going to claim it's anything special but it's the first thing I've written and been somewhat happy with, enough to post it anyways, for quite a while. Also, the first thing I've completed for First Class fandom. Hope you can forgive me for both of those things.
> 
> Title comes from "Only if For a Night" by Florence + The Machine. X-Men: First Class doesn't belong to me.  
> Please enjoy!

Red. There was just red.  So much red, for so long.

_‘He’s dead now, Charles. Don’t worry, it’s done.’_

It didn’t matter. There was too much, not enough, Charles could barely breathe—chest heaving, gasping, failing.

_‘You’re going to be okay, he can’t hurt us anymore. He’s done chasing us._ ’

He didn’t feel okay, weak, couldn’t raise his arm, reaching, grasping for him and hoping to touch. Feel. Cold. He was cold. They were both cold now.

‘ _You have to stay awake_.’

He turned his head, didn’t strain to keep it up but let it loll to the side. To look. To see him. Eyes, eyes so red and skin so pale. He was danger. He was safe.

‘ _Speak to me, Charles, concentrate._ ’

His lips felt dry, cracked. Angry and irritated. His mouth was dry too. He wanted—he wanted—it would fix it. He could fix it. There were reasons, though. Reasons not to. It was what that man wanted.

_‘Stay with me, just a moment_.’

Sounded so far away. Why was he so far away? Was he leaving, departing, leaving Charles to this unfamiliar room? He could see the body behind him. The body, terror, he was still frightened of him. How could they know he was . . .? Head, his head had to be gone. Charles opened his mouth, tried to speak this time.

His lips were too cracked, mouth too dry. It was too cold. Body shaking, revolting against this emptiness, against the cracks in his lips, the blur in his vision, the smell in his nose.

He tried to speak.

_‘Just relax, let me . . . You’re not leaving me, Charles. I won’t let you leave me too. He can’t take another damn thing from me.’_

There was silence. Dead silence, no heartbeat in his ears, vision blurring, end.

Then there was red. Brilliant, vivid, life, red. Smoothing over the cracks in his lips and filling the gaps of his parched mouth and soothing his raw throat. All he could see, for those moments, was more red. He could hear and smell and taste, but it wasn’t what mattered. Too focused on clinging to the red rope that was pulling him back from the edge. His safety net. The man holding the rope. Erik.

The sudden rush of life, the understanding, the life returned with the pain of electricity coursing through his veins. Searing through him and lighting him up, but Erik, there, holding him, nursing him. Keeping him safe.

_‘We’ll be together, now. Nothing will stop us.’_ Charles was wide eyed, still frightened still in pain but the words were clear and crystal—crystal like a glass, delicate and fragile no matter how strong it looked, like they weren’t quite sure. Could still be hurt. Broken and shattered.

His heart was never meant to stop beating, skin never meant to grow cold. He would rage, when he wasn’t so relieved. He clung, weakly grasping with his returning strength. He was with Erik. They were together. Shaw was dead. He was like Erik, or he would be, and no one would hunt him anymore. Erik’s blood was in his veins, electrifying him back to something resembling life.

The world returned to Charles slowly, in Erik’s arms, and understanding seeped into him. Into his cooling heart and body. Energy returned, and he held to Erik tighter. He was terrified of what was to come—the blood, from others, of the pain and the desire and the lust. He had seen into Erik’s mind and he knew the torture of temptation. Charles tried to swallow it, push it aside. For now, for a few moments, he was safe from that world, his new life. They were together and Shaw was dead.

Charles wasn’t foolish enough to think that it would be enough, but he was idealistic enough to hope that it could be.


End file.
